Mireille Liong-A-Kong - Going Natural: How to Fall in Love With Nappy Hair

How to fall in love with nappy hair

Mireille Liong-A-Kong

Foreword by Patricia Gaines a.k.a. Deecoily,
Founder of nappturality.com

Published by Sabi Wiri Inc.

Sabi Wiri Inc., 2004

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, photocopying of photographs without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by Sabi Wiri Inc.
Brooklyn, NY

Cover design: Mireille Liong-A-Kong

For the greatest parents in the world,
Hertha Liong-A-Kong-Ritfeld and Daisy Liong-A-Kong,
who were always there for me.

Patricia Gains a.k.a. Dee: Thank you so much for writing the foreword. You are the best, a great inspiration for all women of color.

Sharine Dawn: Thank you for taking the time to read and edit in my hour of desperation.

Dr. JoAnne Cornwell: Thanks for explaining the Sisterlocks concept to me.

All the models who sent and allowed me to use their pictures: Dolores, Jenteel, Satcha, Sharyn, Sandy, Nicole, Roshini, Fatima, Sherize, Rachelle, Kaissa, Satcha, Mamke, Roline, JoAnne, Deidre Small, Deej, SweetAfrica, Myrena Sint Jago, Richelle Braithwaite a.k.a. Riqui, Porche, Terza, Saskia Norine Abena and Graciella: Thank you so very much.

All the visitors of kroeshaar.com and my supportive audience in Holland and Suriname: You are the ones who got me started: Dank je wel and Grantangi.

All the visitors of nappturality.com : Your advice, hints and tips are truly motivating. Please continue to offer your thoughts.

My husband and the rest of my family: Thank you for your patience.

By Patricia Gaines a.k.a. "Deecoily"
Founder of nappturality.com

If, five years ago, someone had come up to me and said "You'll be writing the foreword for a book on Black women's natural hair, I'd have looked at them like they were crazy. Natural hair? You must be kidding," I would say. "Why in the WORLD would I wear my hair looking like THAT?"

I knew nothing about my natural hair. It was that mess that grew out of my head. Those ugly, unmanageable, dry, kinky, coily, wavy, bendy strands I couldn't comb that gave me such grief which was only relieved by using scalp-burning chemicals and hair-singeing heat. It was that unprofessional, bad, embarrassing stuff that if I were to wear in public, would doom me to everlasting singledom and job failure because, surely, no employer would employ me nor would a suitable life partner love me with hair like... "THAT. So I would beat it, pull it, break it into submission until it was STRAIGHT!

How many of us can remember that defining incident when we decided our hair was unacceptable in its natural state? Was it something someone said? Was it a painful combing session or a scalp-torturing rubber band removal? I don't think it matters much. The important thing is, we are coming full circle and regaining what we lost our whole selves.

Well, here I am; five years and a lifetime later, full of NAPPtural hair and pride. I wear my hair in the state it was intended to be worn, and I have never felt freer. These feelings of joy and sky-high self-esteem that go along with the wearing of your hair NAPPturally is something born again naturals feel the need to share. Such elation and freedom after years of torture, hiding, shame and pain drive the desire to talk and meet with others who share the experience. We also want to reach out and touch those who may be thinking about or curious about the resurgence of the pride in wearing of NAPPtural hair.

Books like this one serve a wonderful purpose. They tell us we are not alone - that this soul-freeing experience is one that is also felt by other Black women who for years have oppressed their hair and their minds into believing there was something "wrong" with them. That the way they were created was less than perfect.

The pain, the scarring, the hair breakage and the inevitable hair loss must stop. We, and our daughters, will only benefit with the healthy knowledge we pass on to them about every part of their bodies while in the process instilling them with pride in themselves. Their skin, their features and their hair are all beautiful in their own right. Black women need to celebrate their beauty, and this book is a great place to start.

I commend Mireille and you, the reader, for reaching out and absorbing this knowledge.

~Dee~

My journey, my motivation

Like so many nappy-haired girls, I started to relax my hair when I was 14. At that age, looking mature was very important. Since I had been wearing an afro from age eight, a change of style was extra welcome. Needless to say, I loved my new look and enjoyed my grown-up straight hair. The joy did not last for long. Dancing to only one song at a very anticipated teenage party would make my carefully styled hair collapse. The humidity and sweat made me look like a drowned cat. Because participation in different kinds of sports was also part of my teenage life, my hair was difficult to keep in place and my straightened tresses became a constant source of concern. Since I didnt know what else to do with my hair, I just tried to learn to live with it. Sometimes my hair was a real mess, but most of the time I managed. The chemical treatment was something I felt reluctant to each and every time and I certainly did not like the high maintenance, but I resigned myself to the whole process and I coped.

After college, my hair really became more than a constant source of concern; it became a burden. Maybe it was the change of environment, from a tropical one to one with four seasons, but suddenly I had to deal with severe breakage. My hair was also thin, lifeless and dry. Out of desperation, I started to wear braids with extensions. It was uncomfortable in the beginning. I had to get used to the fake, long braids but felt that it would be temporary anyway. I only needed to grow my hair back so I could relax it again and take much better care of it. I was sure that that would solve all the problems. Needless to say, this didnt work. I went from one expensive professional hairdresser to the next, from a three month to an eight week touchup-period, from a regular lye to a mild, no-lye relaxer and vice versa, but nothing could stop my hair from breaking once it was chemically processed. I was caught in a vicious cycle of braiding my hair, growing lovely healthy naps, then relaxing again only to have my kinks break down to my scalp again.

One day while this nearly bald spot was sadly gazing at me in the mirror, I asked myself, Why am I doing this? Why do I keep straightening my hair so compulsively? It is no fun having your scalp burned every couple of weeks, the maintenance is certainly not easy nor cheap and on top of that, my healthy naps were clearly deteriorating after flourishing while wearing braids. It was at that point that I decided, No more. I had no clue what I would or could do with my nappy hair but my mind was made up, no more straightening.

The positive aspect about the vicious cycle was that I had become an expert in caring for extensions and taking them out. So, although I couldnt even make a decent braid, I didnt have any hair-aches for a year. My natural naps were flourishing and I wasnt really concerned about the next step of learning how to style my natural hair until I had to. After taking out my extensions, washing my hair, combing it and making my usual funny looking braids, I routinely put on my hat and went on my way to the steady braider I had known now for more than one year. This was on a Sunday and I must have rung her bell a dozen times because I just couldnt believe that she wasnt there. I was stunned and freaked out! The next day would be a working day and I had no clue what to do with my full head of healthy naps. One thing was sure; as funny as those braids were to me, wearing them to work didnt seem amusing at all, and showing up with a hat at the job was no option either. Dependent as I was on the mercy of the home braiders, I called every number from possible braiders but no luck. Of course there were plenty of Black hair salons around that loved to take kinks out with a perm. Since I couldnt style my naps and I was out of braiders, I had little choice and ended up in a salon chair for a relaxer. With a mixed feeling of rage, sadness and despair, I felt the relaxer burning my scalp taking out the kinks of my poor healthy naps once again. My nearly bald spot was gone and I knew it would be back not long after the treatment. But who was to blame? The braider who stood me up, the hairdresser who simply did her job or the relaxer itself that was too harsh for my hair? Sure, I could blame everything and everyone but wasnt it my choice to sit there because I couldnt style my own naps?